


I never needed you to tell me.

by nichogane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-05-01 10:08:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14518158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nichogane/pseuds/nichogane
Summary: Keith has been misguided by other teenage opinions about sex, and Keith is the last person anyone expected to date. An accumulation of their experiences of intimacy, and how it affects their relationship during the last few months before Lotor graduates."No, stupid,” Keith says, and Lotor heartily chuckles- since when did Keith throw insults toward him? “I haven’t either, and it’s not always on you to make the first move.Lotor presses his lips to Keith’s, melding perfectly for the…well he’s lost count of how many times it’s been. "I never need you to.”





	I never needed you to tell me.

**Author's Note:**

> I am somewhat determined to write fluff ridden stories of Lotor and Keith’s relationship, with an unhealthy dose of soft!Lotor as needed. In this fic, Lotor is 18 and Keith turned 17 prior to these events (They’re a year and some change apart). Onward!

The first time happens in Keith’s room, beneath the thick, red and black comforter donning his bed. Keith pants under Lotor, settled between his supple thighs; they’re connected, and Lotor is unmoving- utterly spent. Keith trails his fingers between Lotor’s shoulder blades, earning hums from his boyfriend; closed eyes and a smile set in Keith’s features as he’s delighted by the warmth of Lotor’s slick skin.

It was arduous for Keith; it stung and each thrust felt like he was being torn into, but Lotor was cautious, wanting to make sure he felt comfortable in the act. He didn’t move too quickly or make any sudden, unwarranted movements; made sure to ask if he was okay, was it too much, if he wanted to stop and wait? Lotor’s sole focus was Keith as studied and gauged him, watching and listening for any signs that said:

_I can’t take this. I’ve changed my mind. I’m not as ready as I thought._

If that had been the case, they could settle to cuddle instead. However, Keith assured he wanted to; especially after waiting over a year to deem himself prepared to take this next step.

He’d heard horrors of first times being painful, awkward, or just down right shit; how some people stopped talking afterward if things went wrong, and a cloud of humiliation loomed over them if they got outed. How they were supposed to go at it every day. Too many expectations, regulations and rules to follow, or you would get dumped if you didn’t comply. There’s a huge aversion to be the first one for a virgin, if the other wasn’t; or if you were a virgin at seventeen, you must have been a prude-

Or a loser. Or unattractive. Or your boyfriend is “gay”.

Funny how the latter statement is true. Maybe? He’s not entirely certain, considering Lotor’s had one or two, he thinks, three girlfriends before.

It impelled him to wait- the anxiety from other teenager’s stories shook him to avoid the likes happening to him. Furthermore, supported by the fact everyone was perplexed Lotor was dating him, and _seriously_ dating him, because-

_Where the fuck did this relationship even come from?_

Lotor’s taken his pictures for the yearbook being voted “Most Attractive”, “Most Likely to Succeed”, and “Most Influential” for senior superlatives. He’s the captain of the fencing club and debate team, with the body of a gymnast due to training in the sport for six years. He’s constantly swooned over and pulled in different directions- he’s the most popular guy in school. So, when the news of Lotor dating Keith from his research elective spread school wide, everyone was- ignorantly- dumbfounded.

Students saw Keith as the quiet, new guy, sitting in the back of every class he took, unparticipating. The antisocial eating lunch by himself, but not really, because he mostly slept at the table; when he was compelled to eat, he generally grumbled about the food served, thinking, _who wants to eat this shit?_

He dealt with getting picked on for his hair being cut in a mullet; also for standing shorter than most guys in his grade. And because in his sophomore year, he was sixteen, with classmates unaware his birthday came too late in the year.

Lotor’s dating _that_ Keith, for some reason others can’t fathom.

A junior- at the time- found him intriguing during their time in research, because Keith’s project on “The Wonders of the Mysterious Blue Lion” showed his dedication to the academic; Keith competently expressed his insight on whatever research topic presented. His favorite conversation they engaged in was about the findings of quintessence: where it came from and if it could be manipulated, outside of its purpose of “being life”. Keith wasn’t like the girls who thought they could amuse Lotor with their looks or because “we’d make a great power couple” due to popularity; nowhere near the superficial guy his appearance would -stereotypically- be perceived as.

Keith provided him with meaningful conversation and competition as he could hold his own against him once he joined the fencing club.

He thinks he fell for Keith when he accidentally fell on top of him; a stumble that occurred when the soles of his shoes awkwardly scrubbed the gym floor in a lunge. He could have been irritated from one hundred and forty-five pounds weighing him down? But Lotor found himself blush, admiring the small stream of sunlight peeking through the high window; it reflected beautifully in Keith’s blueish-grey eyes.

That sunlight must have been magic or some shit, because Lotor swore he saw an ethereal glow shroud the smaller guy who apologized- panicking from colliding with him and being tangled on the ground. Or maybe his brain was knocked sideways against his skull; a concussion might have occurred, but he knew- for sure- Keith offering to retrieve him an ice pack charmed him.

Lotor breathes in Keith’s ear heavily, yet muffled in the pillow as he rests his head next to his boyfriend’s. Keith’s thumb wiggles in their hand hold to smooth along Lotor’s long, index finger. Lotor’s thumb twitches as Keith’s light touch tickles him some, and Keith’s stifled laugh makes Lotor slump over to the unoccupied side of the bed.

“You didn’t have to move,” Keith says, shifting right for Lotor to lay flat on his stomach.

“You sounded like you were struggling to breathe,” Lotor says, barely audible as he’s still muffled by the pillow his head is sunk in.

“You sound like you can’t breathe now.” Keith snickers.

 Lotor gives him the laziest glare possible. “Hush.”

Lotor stretches an arm across Keith’s stomach; hooks his fingers around and under Keith’s side, pulling him close to him. Keith’s nose touches Lotor’s cheek, and Lotor places a chaste kiss to the tip.  He smiles- not too big- and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Keith before his face is burrowed in cotton.

“Thanks for waiting for me,” Keith says unexpectedly, and Lotor looks at him from the corner of his eye; slightly disturbed with why Keith would be thanking him for respecting his wishes. “I know it’s been over a year, and today, that’s not something really heard of. And you could be with damn near anyone you choose, but- “

Lotor cuts him off with a “stop”. He groans in the pillow and pushes himself up on his forearms; looks at Keith nibbling his bottom lip with something distressing brewing within blueish-grey hues.

“Keith,” he’s interrupted as a yawn drawls from his lungs. “I like you…for you. I’m unsure of what’s been said within the halls of that school. I haven’t paid attention, because truthfully, I only care about you and your opinion of me. And I want you to know, I respect you, despite the grade difference. I…” Lotor pauses and sighs while he settles on his side; his arms quake from tax. “I’m hopeful that this works. Okay?”

A security blankets Keith, and his hands touch Lotor’s cheeks; one slides Lotor’s forelock into damp, waving silver hairs. He palms the back of Lotor’s head and pulls his boyfriend into a seamless kiss.

Lotor cups his bicep, clutches the muscle as he sucks in a breath; glides his hand down to Keith’s side, and pauses in the dip of Keith’s hip and thigh meeting.

 

* * *

 

 

The second time happens in Lotor’s room. He’s tackled by his boyfriend, losing overall in twelve rounds in a game called “Mario Kart”. Keith straddles his waist, huffing from the struggle to keep Lotor pinned.

Lotor feigns defeat- Keith’s holding his wrists above his head; yet Keith knows his boyfriend is- indeed- bullshitting. He’s accustomed to Lotor flipping him onto his back, and wriggling fingers at his sides prove his urge to tap out difficult to fight-

It’s his underhanded tactic; Keith’s the only ticklish one.

“So, we’re not fighting back today?” Keith asks. His eyebrows knit as his boyfriend shrugs; he sucks his teeth and nudges Lotor’s side with his knee. “Come on!”

Their tussles feed an adrenaline rush, coming from them competing with one another. Keith groans as Lotor lays there- annoyingly- still. However, the more he glares at his boyfriend- not engaging in this spar- his features slowly soften.

Long, silver hairs splay underneath Lotor against the wooden floor; his flushed, flawless lilac skin; the smirk stretched in his lips below hooded light blue eyes captivate him.

Keith leans forward, lured in for a quick kiss-

Or what he mistakenly _thought_ would be a quick.

Pulling Keith’s bottom lip between his teeth, Lotor melts him- suckling gently at plump skin. It’s Keith’s weakness, especially when his fang gently grazes across the bottom. “Hn.”

It's beckons a sighed moan from Keith, and his leg twitches; he involuntarily grinds on Lotor’s stiffening bulge. Lotor’s hands slide underneath his shirt and drag fingertips down the length of his back, slow; a vicious shudder attacks Keith’s spine. His hands-

 _God_ , Lotor’s hands are devils- knowing how and where to touch him- and turn him on. Then Keith realizes-

_Dammit, I lost._

Lotor grins at Keith and doesn’t bother to flip him over by surprise.

“I’m handing over the reins,” Lotor says, removing Keith’s shirt and unties the drawstring of his sweats. Lotor motions Keith to get up and disrobe, and he does the same. He wants Keith on top of him this time; to bear his weight down on him; set whatever pace Keith feels contented with while he grinds.

Hesitant, Keith’s lowers- pain shoots into his lower back from the intrusion. He tenses and quivers- pauses, hoping the hurt dulls into a quiet buzz. Thumbs help, rolling emollient circles in his thigh.

He’s patient with him, Keith thinks; doesn’t expect and hurry him, prioritizing Keith’s comfort before pleasure of his own. Lotor guides his hips, makes moves when necessary, and supports Keith into a satisfying- for him- cry.

 

* * *

 

 

The third time-

They don’t speak of; the door instantly shut after Keith’s father walked in.

Keith froze; Lotor panted; Mr. Kogane shrilled from the other side, witnessing Lotor naked and sweating on top of his son.

“It happens,” Keith remembers Lotor saying, as he radiated and cursed, buried his head under covers.

However, Lotor’s indifference doesn’t help as he sits at the dinner table- silent, no meal shared, opposite of his father. Keith wants his leg to stop shaking, and to ice the heat threatening to blister his skin. Mortified, because his father feels compelled to have “the talk”. “Dad, this isn’t necessary.”

His father clears his throat. “Well, son,” he says, accent thick and Southern, “I’m just tryin’ to make sure things are goin’ properly.”

It isn’t clear- from the thought of it- which one should be embarrassed more:

His father talking to him about his budding sex life, and with another guy, for that matter? Or knowing his little boy has been deflowered, regardless of who it was with?

“Dad, pleeease,” Keith whines; damn, can he _please_ get out of here?

“Well, are you usin’ condoms?”

…Keith- definitely- just cringed. “Dad!”

“Look, Keister! I know I’m not… _that_ way, but I still think you need to be protectin’ yourself!” Even if the question makes Keith’s nerves jitter until he’s nauseous, he’s right.

His father’s being supportive, because more than anything-

He loves his son, but Lotor is older, mature, and too good looking to trust upfront. Not that Keith fails in comparison, or he shouldn’t be dating him, his father has a hard time fathoming his little boy is having sex. With Lotor having such a dominate presence, Keith’s father has been on guard; he’s watched too many movies- they’re obscuring his judgement- and Lotor’s persona fits the smooth, suave criminal. He’s just weary, because…well-

He doesn’t want his little boy to get hurt.

“What about that boy from where we used to live? Was it happenin’ with him, too?” His father asks.

“No.” Keith’s dying, and for god’s sake _\- stop shaking, leg!_ “I wasn’t thinking about that at the time. Plus, we were too young…I was too young. I didn’t know or care a lot about sex.”

The conversation is _way_ too direct, and Keith’s begging for any excuse to leave the table. No phone calls or doorbell rings, and curse them for not coming to his rescue.

“Dad, I’m telling you,” Keith sighs, “everything is good,” and instantly chokes, realizing: s _hit, that line could go both ways_ as his father’s breath hitches.

His poor father- horrified- doesn’t bother to drag the conversation, shooing Keith to go about his business upstairs; watches his son leave the table, and rests his head on his arms.

_Oh, God, help me._

 

* * *

 

 

His first time happens, sitting at the edge of Lotor’s bed, mulling over his boyfriend’s tongue whirling his finger, making him swell. The rough touch of buds against his fingertips, salivating them, sends prickles littering his arm; the tickle makes Keith want to jerk his hand back for a shake, but he’s entranced and panting watching Lotor’s tongue caress each digit carefully. He takes them in to the furthest part of his mouth they can reach and pulls each out slowly to release with a soft pop; Keith questions _how the fuck_ does this make the line running along his back sweat?

Keith doesn’t have to wonder how would it feel much lower than hands; with a pop of a button and a pull of jeans down lean, toned legs, Keith’s vision blanks when lips move down him. A warmed moisture encircles around him; those same rough buds caress his underside.

Lotor peeks at Keith’s ivory skin tinged partially rose; his boyfriend bracing on hands and quivering arms. Keith’s moan stagger, contained behind his teeth sinking into his swelling, bottom lip. _He’s adorable._

“You want me to stop?” Lotor asks as he digs in the slit, and Keith tenses before a shriek.

“Mmm mmm.” Keith shakes his head, unable to speak; he complies as he gets pushed down for his back to rest against the mattress.

Lotor pulls Keith’s jeans off completely in one, clean swipe; kisses the inside of Keith’s thighs and accompanies each peck with a soft nibble. His skin is so smooth and supple, ice cream comes to mind-

And it’s a convincing thought, because he swears Keith tastes like it, too.

It makes his nips turn into suckled bruises in Keith’s skin; apparently, Keith likes it- his pelvis caves inward and breathless sighs leave his lips.

Lotor takes him in, holds Keith’s thighs, and grabs- promising fingertips to mar his ivory skin.  Keith’s hips jerk upward, and his tip meets the back of Lotor’s throat causing him to grunt.

Keith’s struck with a sense of unease; Lotor’s grunt was feral, and he hoped he didn’t upset him from the mistake. He stops moving, heavily pants, and looks down at his boyfriend between his legs.

“My bad-“

“Grab it,” Lotor points to his hair, not moving to look at a confused Keith. When he doesn’t feel hands entangle in his hair-

He moves one for him.

Keith’s doubtful that he should- not wanting to be disrespectful in any way, shape or form- allowing silver tresses to slip through his fingers on their own.

“I’m serious, Keith,” Lotor says, waiting at Keith’s base; nudging the nook of his boyfriend’s groin. “Grab it…forcefully.”

“I don’t want to…”

“Trust me, you won’t.” Lotor reassures, and Keith musters the courage to do as he’s been…asked-told.

Keith twists silver around his fingers and pulls on them weakly to start; increasing his strength and gauging Lotor’s reaction as he tugs. The harder it is, the more Lotor reacts- his lips stretch into a smirk; when Keith pulls hard enough for his boyfriend’s head to move into a face-full of himself, his chortle vibrates against him, and Keith throws his head back.

“Good,” Lotor says, and as if a switch has been flipped, he devours Keith; his suction much harsher than before, and his movements less refined. Lotor groans around him, it's a little messier, and _shit_ , things have become slippery. Keith’s only response is to keep pulling his hair; graze his scalp while repositioning his fingers, for a better hold of silk tresses.

Every pull elicits a moan from Lotor, and with every strand that has potential to snap, the more he gets into it. Keith’s back arches off the bed, because _fuck- this feels good_. His hips jerk, and Lotor has to place a hand on each side of them- hold them down, so he doesn’t lose control.

He holds Keith’s pleasure in his mouth and hands; he shifts his shoulders for Keith’s thighs to press completely against his ears. “Lock your ankles,” Lotor says to Keith, who does just that at his mid back. “And don’t unlock them for anything…even if I can’t breathe.”

Keith nods as he can’t spill a word; his thighs clench when Lotor’s hand cup beneath his lower cheeks and squeeze hard. He belts out a curse- his peak coiling for release- yet he’s holding out as long as he can, because-

“Fuuuuck,” it drawls out- guttural and completely unabashed- and he feels Lotor chuckle around him.

He’s on the verge of his breaking point- as if his writing body slipping Lotor’s hold isn’t conveying so.

Staggered breathing; knuckles whitening; a muscle pulls in his left thigh.

He can’t form the thought to let Lotor know “I’m about to bust”, only letting out a hefty moan; choking on it as his body convulses, and he sees twinkling stars. Laying there with sweat beads rolling over his hot skin, Keith huffs and stares at the speckled, white ceiling. The removal of a hot cavern from his lower half makes him release his ankles; the crumpled hair held in his hands is left to fall.

It takes a second for him to realize what _just_ happened, and his body stiffens. He whips up; his eyes struck with terror, meeting his disheveled boyfriend-

His perfect hair tousled- fluffier on the side it was being grabbed.  His cheeks dusted over from Keith’s intense hold. His shirt wrinkled beyond the point of a quick smooth over to fix. His mouth is a tad bit swollen, and the corner of it glistening.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Keith says, receiving a head shake in response.

“It’s understandable.” Lotor says, stretching from being in a crouched position all that time. “I am the one who told you not to move.”

Keith almost says something back before Lotor crawls into the bed on all four; pushes him back down and captures Keith in a press of lips. “Enjoy yourself?”

Keith’s gaze averts his boyfriend- grinning in an _almost_ mocking way. He tries to ignore him until Lotor starts nudging his nose against his jaw, chortling under his breath.

“I really don’t think you have to ask.”

 

* * *

 

 

The fourth time happens, amidst thick steam; the fervent kiss they’re locked in adds on to the unbearable heat. Keith throws his head back, hotly panting, as Lotor drags his tongue along him. Down his chin and over his Adam’s apple; to the right of it for his lips to latch on and suck a bruise into Keith’s neck.

Keith gasps, and his thighs clench around Lotor’s waist; his hand grabs at the tiled wall, but fingers slip unable to grip the slick surface. Lotor’s deep in him, stroking and sucking his most sensitive spots. Rolling perky buds between thumb and index; the corners of his mouth turned upward into a grin at Keith's mewling.

Sloshing water drown out his piercing moans, his boyfriend’s ragged grunts, and _thank heaven_ , his father is gone for the weekend.

 

* * *

 

 

Their fifth time can’t happen. Lotor lays there-

Arms folded; head back; a thin line pressed in his lips.

He’s boiling- infuriated- mindlessly absorbed by the twirling blades of the ceiling fan above, asking why _the actual_ _fuck_? He never expected to have _this_ issue being young, but when the time came, it happened-

Or rather didn’t, leaving him in this current state now.

Keith walks in with a glass of chilled water and a bag of Lotor’s favorite snack in hand. His boyfriend doesn’t move when he’s entered, and it causes him to deflate. He wants to say _“it’s okay. This doesn’t last_ ,” but he doesn’t know if it will, and who’s he kidding:

Lotor would _still_ be pissed.

He walks to the bed side and clears his throat to announce his presence to Lotor. His boyfriend gives him a sideways glance, and Keith smiles, holding the items out for him.

Lotor turns away, wanting to stay mad, but fuzzy warmth is irresistible, creeping into him from Keith’s adorable gesture. It should be him who’s upset, instead here he is, thinking about making sure Lotor’s okay. He rolls over and sits upright; takes the glass from his boyfriend’s hands and a long pull- grimacing from the cold. Keith still stands in front of him as he places the glass on the nightstand next to him, and Lotor pulls Keith between his legs; wraps his arms around the small of his back, gently pressing his forehead into Keith’s cotton clad stomach.

Keith runs his fingers through the silky mass of silver hairs as his boyfriend sighs into him, muttering apologies for the night they’re having as he can’t perform. Keith smiles while his fingers tread- shaking his head in silence- because good grief, his boyfriend is cute and doesn’t understand a thing.

 

* * *

 

 

Over the week- nothing happens, between school and afternoon practices. Besides, Lotor’s lost confidence from what he called a “technical difficulty.” Their meetings at the lockers only consist of a hand hold and slight eye gazes; Lotor hasn’t made a move to really touch him in days. Keith knows why, however, it doesn’t sit well with him; he craves Lotor’s affection over anything.

They still go get a bite after practice and have their usual, long talks on the phone, but Lotor has made it a point to stay in view of people and keep their contact somewhat distant. They’re only close enough for Keith to lay his head on Lotor’s shoulder; fingers to lace and twiddle thumbs if sitting; only hook pinkies as he walks him home. They haven’t had too much alone time at all. The closest Keith got was a kiss in the locker room after practice, and he started to fall into it, yet Lotor made sure to cut it quick before any sparks smoked into flames.

 

* * *

 

 

He believed he was going to do it - in the darkened space, between shelves of cleaning supplies holding up two different brooms, a mop, and the yellow bucket that caused him to trip. The bucket assaulted his shin, and Keith cursed, however thanked God it did.

He’s pressed flushed against Lotor; his back against the wall. Heavily panting, gazing at each other with disheveled uniform jackets sitting atop wrinkled button-down shirts.

He hasn’t been this close to Lotor in nine- almost ten- days. He hasn’t felt his breath ghost his lips; his pulse beneath his skin; the warmth that comes from Lotor when things become more intimate between them.

Lotor’s shocked, to say the least, and Keith’s cheeks and ears are humming in heat. No _, fuck that yellow mop bucket_ ; he looks like an idiot.

He’s sure his leg is going to bruise, and Lotor’s head and back may hold a twinge of pain. He’s hoping he doesn’t lash out at him, yell _“what the hell is he thinking?”_ The thought sends a shake into his leg, and -for _fuck’s_ sake- his heart’s thumping a little too harsh.

“I’m sorry,” Keith says, apologizing for this clumsy meeting in the utility closet he pulled Lotor into. As if anything else needs to go wrong, the broom decides to fall across Lotor’s face. It hits his nose, causes him to wince, and the unamused look dawning his features cause Keith to tense. He’s way too silent for comfort; hasn’t moved an inch since being trapped.

Before Keith can hang his head in distress, Lotor finally makes a sound. Or rather, he starts chuckling finding Keith adorable- cheeks burning a ferocious red while clutching his shirt; very reminiscent of the moment he fell for him.

“It’s alright.” He says, pushing the broom upright and against the shelf, shifting it elsewhere for that shit to not happen again. “I miss you, too.”

Keith could start crying; his nerves are wrecking through every fiber of his being, but calm down when Lotor’s hands cup underneath his jaw and pull their lips into a sweet kiss. And this time, as if something in the cosmos granted Keith’s wish, Lotor doesn’t try to stop the dying embers from igniting into full on flames.

Honestly, Lotor missed Keith’s arms around his neck, and his fingers grabbing fists full of his hair. His smaller frame nestling into his larger one; the scent of his body wash intoxicating the air around him. He’s missed the taste of Keith’s tongue always coated in blue raspberry from any form of candy or drink he consumes; Keith’s moans and the way his body shudders during a kiss and roaming hands, causing goosebumps to wash over Lotor’s skin.

He’s missed Keith, so much…too much for him to even comprehend why they spent this much time apart from each other’s embrace. It soothes him that regardless of what happened, Keith didn’t think any less of him.

 

* * *

 

 

And again, nothing happens.

Lotor’s run out of condoms, and Keith’s been too nervous to buy his own. But honestly, they would have had at least one if Lotor didn’t throw them out in his fit of rage.

His features twist in annoyance and disappointment, with a heaping side of regret; especially after Keith assured him it happens to young people a few days after they reconciled in the utility closet.

“You usually don’t act on impulse,” Keith says, met with a large palm stretching across his face.

Lotor huffs and grumbles- exaggerated and long. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

* * *

 

 

Maybe…it wasn’t meant to happen again.

Lotor rings the doorbell to Keith’s home, greeted by Keith’s father answering the door; Mr. Kogane asks how he’s been then invites him to go upstairs. The relationship between them is much better- Lotor insisted they talk more when he came over, because Keith bitched at him after the embarrassing conversation, not wanting it to happen again.

Lotor takes off his shoes and places them by the case; ascends, holding a small box labeled “for you” in his arms. He meets the door decorated with a band poster very familiar to him and twists the knob, pushing inside.

 _Shit, it’s gloomy_. Thick curtains cover closed blinds; a heavily masked gold filters the room. Keith’s bundled in the signature red and black comforter, balled in the middle of his bed.

Lotor closes the door behind him, and walks over; Keith doesn’t stir. He’s praying Keith’s just in deep sleep, and it isn’t as bad as he’s thought.

He places the box on the floor, sits on the soft bed, and finds a small portion of Keith’s face peaking from out the blanket. Eyes closed, breathing in light streams, and Keith’s skin is hot to touch. He’s under damp covers, bangs slick and sticking to his forehead, but shivering despite the multiple layers of blankets and clothes. Lotor muses over him, slight worry stirring in blue hues; his fingers push bangs to the side exposing the perfect space for a forehead kiss.

Keith groans from the press of lips, shaking his head for Lotor to move. He shuffles, and his eyes flutter open- a sigh of relief sounds upon being graced with his extremely attractive boyfriend. “Hi.”

Lotor shushes him; he doesn’t feel well, and if his cough is as bad as it was on the phone, he doesn’t want talking to trigger it-

He can’t stand to hear it in person.

“I brought you some things,” Lotor says and picks up the box he brought over. It’s a care package he made himself after spending an hour at the nearest pharmacy. “There’s tissues, aspirin, hand sanitizer, and I picked up your prescription for cough syrup, too. And an assortment of things I didn’t know whether or not you would need.”

A chuckle itches Keith’s throat to escape, listening to Lotor ramble about shoving as much of the wellness section into his cart. He didn’t need gas relief or eye drops; allergy pills or a sleep aid, since being sick stimulated more than enough of the latter.

“And orange juice. If they had a blue raspberry juice that aided in recuperation, I would have gotten you that,” Lotor laments, “however it doesn’t exist.”

“This is more than enough,” Keith assures, peeling back blankets to slowly prop himself on his elbows. He’s weak, and from observation, looks and probably feels like death-

Pale skinned and droopy eyed with dark circles atop a rosy tipped nose; sniffling, prespirating, and the disrespectful cough pulls from his chest. His eyes water, his throat burns, and he heaves while laying back down. The “thank you” is hoarse with smaller coughs singing behind it.

“I shushed you for a reason,” Lotor says, pulling the covers back over Keith before his hand is stopped. Confused blue hues land on his boyfriend as Keith moves his hand under his hoodie and shirt to rest atop his bare chest.

“Your hand feels good.” Keith hums, moving it side to side.

Lotor’s eyebrow hikes. This isn’t the time for that, he thinks, but Keith’s heartbeat calms underneath his palm; his breathing evens; the heat in Keith’s skin dulls to cooled flesh. Lotor’s features settle, and his palm sweeps over Keith’s chest, earning calm sighs as prickles form in its’ wake.

“Definitely much better than feeling like I’m being cooked over an open flame,” Keith says, chortling from his stupid attempt at a joke. His words are strained- his throat feels raw- and Lotor wishes he would just _shut…up_.

“Lay next to me?” Keith looks over at Lotor, contemplating if he should comply. When he doesn’t move quickly enough, Keith feigns a pout. _Got dammit_ , Lotor thinks and removes his hand, lifting covers to slide in and next to Keith. It’s like an inferno under there, and he’s sure whatever Keith has, it’s going to be him next.

Yet Keith scooting in close to him, nuzzling his chest, sighing relief makes him accept the possibility. Lotor holds Keith- _fuck, he’s burning up_ \- allowing the heat to smolder him; the horrible cough catches in his shirt.

The only thing that matters is his boyfriend feeling better, and the kiss Keith jabs him for better help with that.

* * *

 

 

There’s condoms, they’re both in good health, yet- AGAIN- it’s not happening.

Keith’s thought to pleasure Lotor after everything that’s happened in the past few weeks. It’s been about five minutes, yet Lotor’s still surprised with thick, ebony hairs below his navel; drool engulfing him; head bobbing up and down.

Hazy eyes peer at his boyfriend having learned an alarming skill, and he holds back bursting as his hands grip the bed sheets. He’s flushed, and his shirt is sticking to his skin; his mouth dry and leg trembling with Keith’s tongue cuffing and pulling painfully slow. Keith’s hands glide over his front side thoughtfully; up and down, fingertips lightly touch every inch of smooth, lilac skin.  The hum Keith makes around him with his moans vibrate all the way to the tips of his toes. _He’s fucking amazing_ , Lotor thinks, panting and clearing his throat, because where has moisture gone?

The off chance he meets the blue-greys of his boyfriend light him ablaze. “Where-“ he closes his eyes and gulps, grunts and returns the gaze, “where did you learn _this_?”

Keith sucks hard, drawling out a long groan from Lotor, coming off with a pop. “I watched videos.”

Lotor snaps up on bent arms, chest rapidly rises and falls; his forelock plastered down the middle of his face, losing hold. “Videos?”

“Yeah,” Keith says, wiping his mouth of the saliva settled in the corners with the back of his hand. “I watched videos.”

“What kind?”

Keith’s eyebrows knit and his mouth pulls in the left corner, displeased. “What kind do you think?" in a "it should be obvious" kind of way. "We haven’t done anything in a while, and I felt bad. I wanted to take care of you this time.”

Lotor falls silent, and can easily let Keith continue when he places kisses along his length, but he can’t shake the sincerity behind Keith’s words to not fully sit up.

Keith’s startled by the shifting weight, looking completely confused. Lotor grabs his wrist and pulls him up, melding their lips together into a long peck. Keith sighs as Lotor pushes his tongue into his mouth and laves over his own; moans into it, and grasps Keith’s shirt at the middle of his back.

“You don’t want me to…finish you off?” Keith asks in the small break of Lotor lifting his shirt over his head, and goes ignored when Lotor’s mouth meets his again in another opened mouth kiss.

Keith rolls onto his back; his boyfriend creates friction in their lower halves. He already knows where it’s going-

Lotor’s _definitely_ about to finish.

 

* * *

 

 

Neither of them feel like it happening, snuggled on the couch underneath a plush, throw blanket- a present Keith received for Christmas from one of his father’s coworkers.

Lotor’s laid along the couched with Keith sprawled atop him; between one propped and the other stretched leg, mindlessly flipping through channels on the tv. Keith’s fingers slide through tresses as he can’t keep from fiddling with them- Lotor’s hair has grown another unnecessary inch.

“Promise me, you won’t cut your hair when you leave,” Keith says, marveling the television light reflect off silver strands as he twists them. Lotor clicks the remote. “Lotor?”

“I promise.”

 

* * *

 

 

Keith misses Lotor during his senior trip for Spring Break. He had to force him to go and enjoy it- this _is_ his last year of high school.

He didn’t want to go to a beach, having extremely sensitive skin; nor did he enjoy water, because wet clothes sticking to him just…didn’t appeal. Keith had to help him pack bags and escort him to the school, making certain he got in and caught his ride. Or else, he would’ve stayed behind, and showed up to his house later.

Lotor sends text often about how he wants to be at home, bad; he’s got projects and applications that need completing, but truthfully-

He wants to be with Keith, but Keith keeps assuring him they’ll spend plenty of time together as soon as he gets back.

_To: Lotor  
Sent: 3:13 PM_

_Just…go find something to do._

Keith sends, and doesn’t expect to get back-

_From: Lotor  
Received: 3:14 PM_

_You’re back at home._

The incoming call Keith answers- it’s his smug and laughing boyfriend, expecting Keith’s face to be sweltering. “I got you, didn’t I?” He asks.

“Shut the hell up.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lotor’s greeted with a hug from Keith when he returns; Keith jumped in his arms, squeezing his legs around his waist- his bag fell. And poor Lotor, he’s awfully burned by the sun, yet braves the embrace, because-

Well, it’s Keith.

“About my message I sent you the other day,” Lotor says, receiving the quickest “no” he’s ever gotten from his boyfriend. _He can be so petty._

“You’re sunburned,” Keith says, “we need to get you aloe vera gel.”

Lotor deadpans. “Yet you’re hugging me extremely tight.”

“Cause I missed you, so deal.”

 

* * *

 

 

Prom approaches, and you’d swear it was a celebrity event:

The red, velvet drapery, gold accents, and large dance floor are too much in their opinion, simply because it’s… _just_ high school.

Too many top hats and capes with accentuating canes; the diamond encrusted- also known as rhinestones- five hundred-dollar gowns. Majority of their class don’t have jobs or even the social rank for such a lavish event. And please don’t let the girls who ignored dress code- high slits and deep necklines- have any slip up tonight.

It didn’t, however, stop Lotor from donning a slim fitting, black tux; leather square toe oxfords and his hair pulled back into a bun. He kept a simple white shirt, and a black bowtie; a red boutonniere gave the right pop of color. He could rock a garbage bag, and still look flawless- let everyone around the school tell it.

But more than anything, the date hooked on his right arm steals his show. Same attire, yet red, with a black boutonniere. Keith looks stunning with his hair slicked back, holding the right amount of sheen; gold glitters around him- complimenting his skin- and Lotor can’t stop his smile, entranced.

“You look great,” Lotor says, and places a kiss to Keith’s cheek.

“Don’t make me blush here, please,” Keith turns away; of course, his cheeks are pink.

The whispers start around them, because Keith doesn’t seem like he would be here. Willingly, dressed as he is, and some people still haven’t grasped the concept of Lotor dating him. Lotor notices the slightest tremble in Keith’s arm, and he leans over to speak in his ear. “Don’t worry about them.”

When Keith looks at him, he sees he’s serious. It’s been almost two years since they started dating, and Lotor’s not bothered in the slightest. He bought Keith’s ticket and asked for his company which, despite feeling insecure, he agreed to.

They find their table and sit, listening to the DJ play music neither of them are into. Lotor’s politely declined any offers to dance from girls in his class. One of his exes had the nerve to ask for his hand, as if she didn’t cheat on him for a senior their sophomore year, and give a half assed apology.

Lotor senses Keith’s anxiety rising when he starts slumping in his chair, and his hands clasp in his lap for a twiddle of thumbs. His bottom lip quivers; his eyes scan the perimeter of the room, probably looking for the closest exit he can run to.

“Dance with me?” Lotor asks, breaking Keith from his silent thoughts. There’s terror, with an impending “absolutely not” to come from his mouth. “Come on,” he doesn’t wait, and pulls Keith on the floor. _God_ , Keith digs his heels to stop the pull, really not wanting to dance, but the look Lotor gives him threatens:

_I have no problem putting you over my shoulder._

Keith groans when he’s amidst the heavily packed bodies on the floor; someone bumps into him- cursing- because _he_ was the one in the way.

For décor this expensive, it sure is a waste; the lights are dimmed, and colored lights strobe, reflecting off heavy fog. It’s hot and compact, and Keith gets claustrophobic in the middle, but Lotor’s hands on his shoulder calm him.

“You don’t have to do much,” Lotor says, swaying side to side, because- let’s be honest- he doesn’t want to do this either. However, Keith sitting there, in a frenzy, and ditching him for the night wouldn’t go over well; plus, he looks too good for needless thoughts to ruin it.

There’s a reason Keith’s with him tonight, and the answer soon reveals when Lotor is crowned “Prom Prince”; a no brainer, honestly- they even changed the title from “King” at his suggestion.

Lotor does the traditional dance with the “Prom Princess”, and good heavens, she’s beautiful-

Butter, brown skin and long, curly, white hair pulled into a high bun; her slim figure donning an exquisite blue dress, with yellow, glittering jewels that match her crown. She’s smiling bright, and made of pure poise and grace. Murmurs float around them of how “good they look together” and how “dumb Lotor is for turning her down when she asked him to be her date.”

A heart string starts breaking, watching them dance. Keith’s desperately wanting to get out of this place. Walk out and call a cab, his chest hurts, and he’s on the verge of heaving.  But the music quiets to a hushed hum besides Lotor’s voice over the speakers. The Prom Princess stands in the center alone while he’s made his way on the stage.

“Keith,” he calls, and his boyfriend freezes with the bright, ass spotlight blinding his view. “Will you share this dance with me?”

Keith’s knees buckle, and he swears on everything, he could not fucking breathe.

He _can not_ breathe.

He can’t fucking breathe, is he even alive still? Yes, he knows he is, when Lotor stands in front of him, and people move back. An icy hand touches his cheek, making him flinch. “Did you hear me?” Lotor asks, and yeah, he actually did.

“What are you doing?” Keith asks, bewildered as music starts playing. Yet Lotor ignores him, takes his hands, and they move. Swaying side to side, hand in hand, with Lotor’s free one resting on his lower back. And somehow, his free one is purchased on Lotor’s shoulder.

“I told you, I didn’t care about what other people had to say,” Lotor reminds Keith, as whispers turn from “what’s he doing?” to better judged “this is cute.”

Keith could die from embarrassment; got dammit, Lotor, you could have given him a heads up, but Lotor knew Keith would refuse to be his date if he did.

A lullaby floats along the current of the light conditioned air- softly echoing off the walls of the heavily decorated space. The tune flitters through Keith’s ears- soothing and calming- along with just simply being in his boyfriend’s arms. He’s a sweetheart, Keith thinks, and he lays his head on his chest; his heart beats sporadically despite this being his scheme.

Lotor catches a glimpse of the prom princess, and mouths a “thank you”, expressing gratitude; she blows a kiss off her fingertips, being completely supportive.

When the music stops, and they finish their dance, Keith looks up at Lotor, grinning. Lotor steps back from Keith and removes the crown from his head; places it atop Keith’s, and brings his hand up for a light kiss.

Keith blinks at him owlishly as his lips sit for a moment that’s probably too long. “What?” Lotor asks. “You’re my prince.”

 

* * *

 

 

Keith massages Lotor’s shoulders while he’s studying for finals; he’s been pent-up over the week- it bothers his boyfriend, bad.

“You’ll do fine,” Keith says, kissing the tip of Lotor’s ear; however, Lotor’s still disgruntled regardless if he knows it’s true.

“Don’t you think it’s trivial? To place a student’s graduation in these ridiculously long tests?” Lotor asks; his eyebrows furrow and a wrinkle sits in his nose. Having accelerated classes is a pain in the ass; each test a hundred questions long, and he must take four of them. Even though he knows he’ll pass, it’s keeping the “A” he’s worried about. He hasn’t had anything less in the last three and a half years, but with the stress of graduating and going off to college, his mind is slipping.

He heavily groans, and accidentally shakes Keith’s hands off his shoulders; leans forward and places his head in his palms- a headache starts to form.

The tension thumps vigorously between his eyes, and kneading palms at the area doesn’t help to alleviate it.

He feels a presence kneel in front of him and lifts his head up slightly to see Keith holding out aspirin.

“Here,” Keith says, handing him two white pills and gives him the blue-raspberry drink that was sitting on the coffee table. “If you want water, I could get that for you.”

Grateful, Lotor pinches the pills and pops them into his mouth; the cold sting of soda coaxes them down his throat with a gulp. “Thank you,” he says, savoring the taste of berry on his tongue. “Your energy is needed.”

Keith chuckles and pushes his way into Lotor’s lap; his legs sit on each side of hips- hands slide up his cotton clad thighs. He tips his boyfriend’s head back and steals a kiss, smiling at the moan Lotor gives him. Keith pulls back, and Lotor’s head falls to the side; he’s aware this isn’t the time for it, but damn it, he would love to.

“How about I…” Keith drawls out while grazing a hand over his shirt; down the front of his stomach, beneath the elastic waist band, slowly stroking with light pressure causing Lotor’s hips to shift. “Release some endorphins? That helps with pain, right? Isn’t it on your test?”

Lotor lets an “mhm” roll in his mouth, focusing on the soft, smaller hands of his boyfriend skillfully working him. “But I believe that’s on your test, dork.”

Keith contemplates, not stopping his hand, and remembers-

 _Shit, that is on my test_ , but shrugs it off, quick.

“At least I know what I’m talking about.”

 

* * *

 

Lotor’s valedictorian speech is inspiring- easily from his charismatic nature. The graduates toss their caps in the air after tassels have been flipped, and cheers roar, even among the great outdoors. Keith finds Lotor in a mass of brightly flashing lights; everyone wants to take a picture with him, regardless of if they’re truly friends with him or not. Lotor’s compliant enough, despite him really?

Not giving a shit.

The sight of Keith gives him an escape during the overcrowded engagement; he picks him up and spins a bit before putting his smaller boyfriend down.

“I told you would be fine,” Keith says, handing him a bunch of flowers and a sealed card; Lotor takes them and kisses him, in the middle of the crowd. The kiss is a long, sweet peck that makes Keith murmur gibberish into it; Lotor smirks against him increasingly happy to see Keith’s there.

Keith stands on his toes and places his arms around Lotor’s neck; Lotor arms form a strong hold around his waist. There’s something different about this hug, and both can tell.

It isn’t like they haven’t shared a hug before, or kissed each other senseless over the year, but somewhere in the back of Keith and Lotor’s mind, they’re thinking about him leaving. But it goes unanswered, deciding to revel in the warm embrace-

The kiss, each other, and the unnoticed musing of those around.

They pull back and gaze at each other- each allured by blue hues. The pause is somewhat unsettling between them, feeling as though something needs to be said.

Keith’s nerves start to slink through his body; his heels find themselves on the ground. His arm has relaxed, yet he doesn’t move it from around his boyfriend’s neck. He feels Lotor’s arm ease a bit, but they’re still holding him in place and definitely close.

Lotor’s notices the slightest twitch in Keith’s mouth as he looks at him, and his brow quirks. “Yes?”

“I don’t think…” Keith says, and shit, why does it feel like his mouth’s a desert?

“I haven’t,” Lotor interrupts, and Keith’s eyes grow wide. “I’ve never told you I love you.”

It’s silent again, and Keith feels like he’s about to croak, but Lotor moves a hand for fingers to wriggle the hairs at the nape of his neck; bring some feeling back into him, and Keith shakes his head.

“No, stupid,” Keith says; Lotor heartily laughs- since when did Keith throw insults towards him? “I haven’t either, and it’s not always on you to make the first move.”

Lotor presses his lips to Keith’s, melding perfectly for the…well he’s lost count of how many times it’s been. “I never needed you to.”

/End

**Author's Note:**

> The longest one-shot I've ever written, and I definitely enjoyed writing it. I hope you did, too! Feel free to leave a comment; they're much appreciated. Until next time ♥


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